A/N: People have been asking about the title of the story and what Tabula Rasa means. Tabula Rasa is Latin for 'blank slate' or 'clean slate'. A Roman tabula was used for taking notes and made of a metal or wooden cover which had two frames inside filled with wax (think of a greeting card with wax on the inside). Notes could be scratched into the wax. When the user wanted to erase the notes and reuse the tabula, the wax would be heated and smoothed over, blanking it out for another, fresh use. So, who or what is the blank slate in this story? Time will tell, my friends.
Disclaimer: There once was a Chuck from Nantucket … No, no that's not right. Once Chuck was from Nantucket … No, that's not right either. There was Chuck once from Nantucket … No, wrong. It just doesn't work, sorry. I'm also sorry that I don't own Chuck. I make no money from Chuck.
Chapter 4 - Confusion
October 1
Chuck started running before the door to Helman Hall had closed. He was on the opposite side of campus from the baseball field and had a lot of ground to cover and not much time to cover it.
He ran northeast across Meyer Green before turning up Galvez Mall, trying not to bump into the myriad of people milling about the area. Chuck slowed for a second to cinch his backpack higher and tighter on his shoulders. More than one pair of female eyes followed his every move, but he was too intent on making practice in time to notice. After crossing Jane Stanford Way, he continued up, what was now, Galvez Street, dodging around the people walking there. Cutting through Koret Plaza, with the crowds of pedestrians thinning out a bit, Chuck crossed Campus Drive and followed Sam McDonald Mall straight to the parking lot outside the field. Putting on a burst of speed, he made it to the locker room with a couple of moments to spare. Everyone else had already left the room by the time Chuck arrived.
Carefully placing his pack in his oversized locker-cum-closet, he threw off his street clothes and pulled on his workout tee-shirt, shorts, and turf shoes, before locking everything up. Sprinting out of the locker room, Chuck made the field just after the top of the hour to be greeted by the sight of assembled team and Coach Casey's growl from the outfield. The rest of the coaching staff, including Coach Graham, stood back a little bit, just watching.
"Nice of you to join us, Bartowski," Casey barked.
"Sorry, Coach," Chuck started to apologize.
Casey held up his hand to stop Chuck. "Yes, Bartowski, you are sorry. A sorry excuse for a baseball player. I'm not interested in your excuses. You were a minute late, so that's five poles you owe me at the end of the workout."
Chuck frowned. He hadn't planned on giving an excuse. He knew Casey wouldn't have listened anyway. Instead, Chuck just acknowledged the punishment with a nod, thinking that he could really do without the Marine Corps boot camp BS.
"OK, now that we're all here," Casey growled, glancing at Chuck. "You know the drill by now. Line up for stretching and calisthenics. Five minutes of each. Shaw, get 'em started."
"Sure thing, Coach," Shaw said, sucking up and all but saluting.
Daniel Shaw, senior, first basemen, and team captain strutted out in front of the group. Casey went off to join the other coaches to observe the team. Square-jawed, recruiting poster boy, Daniel Shaw. All the personality and charm of a dime store wooden Indian.
"Form seven lines of five guys each, then spread out two arm lengths." Shaw instructed.
As the players moved to conform with Shaw's request, Chuck heard Morgan whisper. "All hail our fearless leader, Danny the Douche." There were several snickers from around them as Shaw began to lead them in the stretching exercises preparing them for the rest of the workout.
Chuck had been on many teams over the years, both sports and otherwise. He considered Shaw one of the worst types of leaders. The type of leader who strutted and preened. A leader who liked to order people around as if he was above them and not one of them. A junior coach, instead of a player on the team. It reminded him of when Ellie had tried to play Mom Number 2 with him, just because she was older and a girl. As if that gave her special rights over him or something. Luckily or unluckily, their being apart for most of his life kept her from attempting to exercise her perceived 'rights' very often. They were still working on repairing their relationship, now that they both were at Stanford.
Casey walked back to the group as they completed the stretching process. "Outstanding. Anyone still feeling tight? Any pulled muscles or anything else?" He barked. People shook their heads. "I can't hear your empty heads rattling over here, ladies. I'll ask, again. Anyone have any pulled muscles or anything else to whine about?"
"No, Coach." Some of the players replied.
"I can't hear you, girls." Casey yelled.
"No, Coach." All of the players shouted this time. Much louder than before.
"Outstanding. I thought for a second there that I had wandered into a girly rhythmic gymnastics practice."
Morgan whispered to Chuck. "QeHtaHbogh qabDaj vIlo'taHvIS poH 'arqon." [I didn't know Casey liked to dress up in leotards and play with long ribbons.]
"Duj 'e' vIpIH. jIHvaD ghIlghameS, jIHvaD 'e' yIchaw'." Casey said, looking straight at Chuck and Morgan. [I heard you, numbnuts. You owe me 10 poles after practice, Grimes.]
Morgan just gaped at Casey. "Coach?" he asked.
"What? Didn't think I knew Klingon, did you, idiot?" Casey smirked. "Hello? Nerd school. I'm a Marine. We never go into enemy territory unarmed." Coach Graham and the rest of the assembled coaches laughed, shaking their heads. Casey just shrugged. Some of the players started to laugh, but a look from Casey silenced them.
Morgan hung his head. "Ah, man." Chuck just patted his friend on the shoulder. At least they would be running together.
"Ok, enough dicking around." Casey growled. "Get on with the calisthenics. Time's a-wastin'"
Shaw got the team's attention and started through the calisthenics routine. The coaches walked around the exercising players, watching their form and correcting any mistakes. That also served to prevent anyone from slacking off on the workout.
When the routine was over, Casey stepped in once more. "Ok, now that the dressing up and putting on your makeup process is over, let's get on with it. Divide in half. A to M and N to Z. A to M start running the steps. The rest of you start on the poles. I'll let you know when to switch. Be careful running those steps. Any of you idiots twists an ankle and you'll be running more. On your hands and knees, if necessary. You all know the drill. Ok, get to it."
Chuck and Morgan being in the same half of the alphabet, joined the group running the steps. Starting on one end of the baseball field seating, the group began to run. Up the steps to the top, across the concourse behind the seats, down the next set of steps, run over to the next of steps, up those steps, and so on until they get to the end of the seating. Once there, they sprinted back to the beginning to start the process all over again.
Sarah and her friends walked around the side of Hellman Hall and headed back toward their dorm. As they usually did, they waited a beat or two for the rest of the Songbirds to move some distance away, so they could talk without being overheard. Traffic was picking up on Santa Teresa Street and they had to keep an eye out for college-age drivers, since they knew those drivers wouldn't necessarily be keeping an eye out for them. Watching the traffic took some of their attention, but not all of it. Each of them was also giving some attention to their just completed practice and pondering the question that was Chuck Bartowski.
"I wonder what's going on with him?" Sarah mused, almost to herself.
"Him who?" Carina asked brightly.
"Him who? Really? We're going to play this game, now?" Sarah scoffed.
"Oh, you mean Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Stuttery? All curls and hands? Big hands? All typey, typey? Or should I say all fondlely, fondlely?" Carina asked much too sweetly as she batted her eyes. Amy giggled, while Zondra just watched the byplay between her two friends.
Sarah stopped walking and scowled. "Red, sometimes you go too far. Stop pushing my buttons. He wasn't fondling anything. Sheesh."
"So, you don't want me to push your buttons. Ok, fine. Sure. Maybe, you want Chuckles to be the one pushing your buttons. Or, maybe, just that one button. Nudge, nudge. Wink, wink." Carina teased. Now Zondra and Amy just laughed.
Sarah blushed, but glared at Carina and took a step toward her. "No, you asshole. I'm trying to figure out what's going on with him. You know, with the guy we just allowed to hang out with us?"
Carina held up her hands and backed away from Sarah. "You mean the guy who you allowed to hang out with us, don't you Blondie?"
"Me? Oh, no. You're not pinning this on me. We took a vote. We all agreed to allow him to stay."
"Yes, you. We could tell that you wanted him to stay. All of us. Even the dim bulb freshman could tell."
"Could tell what?"
"That you liked him. That you wanted him to stay."
"I don't even know him. How could I like him?"
"I don't know, Blondie, but you do like him. And he was fondling you, too." Sarah stared daggers at Carina. "At least, it sure looked like it; the way he shook your hand. I thought I'd die of old age before he let go. The look he gave you? And the one you gave him? Whee Oooo."
Sarah turned to her other suitemates. "Zondra? Amy?"
"Sorry, Red's right, Sarah. We've never seen you talk or act like that around any guy the whole time we've been here at Stanford. You usually bite guy's heads off. Chew them up and spit them out. Not this time, though." Zondra said.
"It's true, Sarah. Heck, I've thought, at times, that you didn't even like guys. Compared to how we've known you to act in the past, you were acting pretty weird. Very out of character, if you ask me." Amy agreed.
Sarah's mouth hung open. She stared at each of her friends, in turn. She didn't know what to say. She didn't like him. Of course not. How could she? They'd just met. And barely talked. She didn't like him, did she?
"Bedroom eeyyeess. So Tall. Wonderful curls. Strong hands. Beautiful smile," mental mom giggled.
I'm losing my mind, Sarah thought. I'm studying Psychology and I've become a psycho. Maybe I need to visit health services for stress relief.
She shook her head. No, damn it! Sarah pushed those thoughts down in her mind. She did not have time for this. She had work to do. She had to graduate. She had to get into physical therapy school. She had goals. Chuck Bartowski was not going to interfere. Sarah frowned and shook her head, again. She had to put all of this aside and focus on the tasks at hand.
Collecting her thoughts, she spoke. "I can't like Chuck Bartowski. At least, not until I know more about him. What is with his on-again-off-again stuttering?" Whaat? Oh, shit! What did I just say? Oh, no! Why did I say that? What is the matter with me? Sarah hung her head and growled in frustration.
"Bingo!" Amy, Carina, and Zondra all thought as they smiled at one another. Operation Big Thaw was on. It was so on.
"Yay! My baby likes a boy!" mental mom cheered.
"Mom, please," Sarah thought. "Go back to your room. I've got to think."
Mental mom huffed and was silent.
Shaking her head, Sarah started walking to the dorm, again. "Assholes," she muttered.
Carina caught the eyes of Zondra and Amy. "Later," she mouthed. They nodded and smiled as they caught up with Sarah.
After a water break, Chuck and Morgan's group started on running the poles. Running poles was a time-honored way to both exercise and punish baseball players. The drill wasn't complicated. It consisted of running from one foul pole along the outfield fence on the warning track to the opposite foul pole for either a set number of 'poles' or for as long as the assigning coach deemed necessary. If the coach wanted to be a real hard case, he could assign double poles, which meant the players had to run to the opposite pole and back to complete a single 'double pole' or lap. That's what usually happened when players were assigned running poles for some perceived infraction. Morgan was fast becoming an expert in running double poles.
"Morgs, you gotta learn to keep your thoughts to yourself. Casey has your number." Chuck said as he jogged along beside his longtime friend.
"Yeah, I know. Think, before I speak." Morgan agreed, a bit breathless. He had to take almost two steps for every one of Chuck's, due to the length of Chuck's stride compared to his, in order to keep up. "My mouth works faster than my brain."
"Everything works faster than your brain, Grimes," said a voice behind them. "Tell us again how you ended up at Stanford?"
Morgan glanced over his shoulder to see a fairly tall player smirking at him. Bryce Larkin was a quintessential 'tall, dark, and handsome' chick magnet. He could sweet talk the 'knickers off a nun', as the saying went. Rumor was he was working on gathering a stable of girls from all classes, freshman up to graduate, in the few short weeks they'd been at school. On top of that he was a shortstop, the darling of many a youth and travel baseball team. Arrogant and cocky, Larkin fit the stereotype, perfectly. At the moment, his dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty was marred by the sneer he gave Morgan as he caught up to and passed them.
"Just like you Larkin. Baseball ability, grades, and a scholarship," Morgan replied, heatedly. Before he could say anything more, he caught a look and head shake from Chuck that meant 'Don't say it, buddy.'
"You're nothing like me, Grimes." Larkin called.
"For which I thank God every day." Morgan muttered. Chuck snorted, but shook his head at his friend's obstinance.
"You ladies seem to be having such a good time with your coffee klatch, how about you all run 5 more poles after we call time? Sound good to you? Everyone on the poles now, be sure to thank your friends Larkin and Grimes for the extra work." Casey barked, having moved closer to them during the obvious exchange. There were multiple groans from the running players.
Coach Graham called time a few minutes later and the two groups of players congregated around the coaches in the outfield.
"Not a bad workout, gentlemen. But tomorrow I want to see more pep in your step and less flip of your lip. You got me, people?" Graham said.
"Yes, Coach," the team chorused in unison.
"Ok, group N-Z do your cool-down exercises and stretch, then you can hit the showers. Group A-M, I believe you owe Coach Casey 5 more poles. Make them double poles. You might remember to take these workouts seriously in the future." Graham ordered. "Grimes don't forget you already had 10 poles from the start of practice."
"Yes sir, Coach," Morgan replied ruefully.
As the two groups moved off to the left field foul pole and the locker room, respectively, Chuck spoke up. "I'm going to run the 5 double poles Graham and Casey assigned us and stay to run the extra 10 poles Morgan got from before. Anyone who wants to run with us is welcome."
Larkin shook his head. "Why would anyone want to run with you two losers, unless they had to?" he sneered.
"Why do you think, Larkin?" Chuck looked Bryce in the eye. When he didn't say anything, Chuck supplied the obvious answer. "Teamwork." Larkin snorted and frowned, shaking his head, once more.
Nevertheless, after the group had finished the required 5 double poles, most of the players in the group stayed to run the extra 10 poles with Chuck and Morgan. Larkin was not one of them.
Watching from the middle of the outfield, Casey spoke. "Kid's a natural leader and he doesn't even know it."
"Chuck's lived inside his own head for so long, he can't recognize his own abilities beyond the classroom and the pitcher's mound. His dad was the same way." Graham replied.
"His dad? You knew his father?" Mark Klein, the infield coach, asked. "Is that how he got into Stanford?"
"Can it, Coach." Graham ordered. "Yes, I knew and still do know his father. We were roommates our entire time here at Stanford. Played together on the team, too. Good man. Smartest guy I know, apart from Chuck over there. Pretty good ballplayer, to boot. Big third baseman. Quick hands; good arm. Not a bad hitter. Clutch, know what I mean? Did Chuck get into Stanford on nepotism? Hell no. You don't get picked in the first round of the pro draft due to nepotism. Top half of the first round, no less. He turned down a seven-figure signing bonus to come here. Bradbury scouted him. What do you say, Coach?"
"Best pitcher I've seen, personally, at any level, amateur or pro. Righty or lefty. Ever. Period." Sam Bradbury replied.
"Turned down seven figures. Humpf. Must be an idiot then." Coach Klein smirked.
"Knock it off, Klein." Graham retorted. "I know Larkin is your boy. You scouted him and you recruited him. But he's an egotistical idiot. He's a shortstop, for God's sake. He's supposed to be the leader of the infield. The leader, not the king. He needs to learn how to get the other infielders to work with him. To trust him. Take his directions, not because he says so, but because they trust him to know the right thing to do on the field. And he needs to earn that trust starting in the fall during these practices. Making fun of the other players and being condescending is no way to earn anyone's trust. This isn't travel ball or high school and we're not playing daddy ball in the Pac-12."
"As for Bartowski," Graham continued. "That kid has more on his plate than the other 34 guys on this team combined. Here is the lowdown on Chuck Bartowski. You don't breathe a word of what I'm about to tell you. To anyone. Wives. Girlfriends. Anyone. Especially not any of the players. It's what his family wants and it's what Stanford wants. Clear?" The other coaches nodded, wide-eyed. "Ok, here's the Cliff Notes version of the story." As Graham filled his coaching staff in on Chuck's story, their eyes widened even further. More than one couldn't resist looking over to where Chuck was running with the other players.
Sarah and her three suitemates arrived back in their dorm room just after 4:00pm. It had been a long, frustrating, but interesting day and it wasn't over yet.
"What's the plan? You guys want to catch dinner together?" Sarah asked her friends as they entered the room.
"Sure thing, Blondie. You got a time in mind?" Carina replied, setting her purse and backpack down on her desk.
"Well, that depends." Sarah said cupping her chin in her hand. "Does anyone have someplace they have to be later or do we have flexibility on dinner time?"
Carina responded first. "I'm planning on going over to Green Library. I've got to check on some books I found during my online stack search for my Anthropology research paper. Not a time crunch, yet, so I'm flexible." Sarah always marveled that Carina combined being a boy crazy, party girl, sexpot with wanting to follow in her mother's footsteps and studying anthropology with plans on pursuing her PhD after undergrad.
"I'm planning on studying over at Terman." Amy said. "I've got some Chem E problems to work on for tomorrow and Terman has some research journals that are supposed to have some useful information. I guess I'm flexible, too." Amy may have looked like a dumb blonde and like to play one around boys, but she was anything but a dumb blonde. You can't major in Chemical Engineering at Stanford and be dumb. Not surprising since she was the daughter of two scientists who worked at Livermore Labs.
"I'm heading over to Green, as well." Zondra chimed in. "I've got some work to do for my International Relations senior seminar, but I've got time and can be flexible." Sarah had always wondered how the daughter of a high school girls' PE teacher and port authority supervisor had developed an interest in international relations. She figured it had all started with Zondra going with her dad to work at the Port of Long Beach and seeing those ships from all over the world docking there.
"Ok, I've got to dig into that psychology project Reuning assigned this morning, so I guess I'll be going over to Green, as well. I want to go for a run first, though. Need to burn off some of this pent-up energy. Let's say we eat dinner around 6:00pm. That way I can go for my run and get showered before dinner. That sound ok with everyone?"
"Sure, Blondie. We'll just hang around here and wait on you to finish what you're doing and then we'll get on with dinner and our own work." Carina snarked.
Sarah stopped in the middle of changing her clothes to give Carina a flat look.
"Ease up, Walker. I'm just giving you a hard time. 6:00 is fine. No problem. Go for your run. We'll see you when you get back." Carina smirked.
Sarah finished changing. "Ok, thanks. I'm just running around Lake Lagunita for about an hour or so. Then I'll come back and shower so we can get dinner. See you guys later." Sarah said as she walked out of their suite, shutting the door behind her.
Carina held up her hand indicating that the remaining girls should wait for a few minutes. When Sarah didn't come back into the room after the short pause, she lowered her hand.
"Shit. Walker's going to come with us to Green. That means we'll need to sneak off and meet somewhere else, if we can get ahold of all of the other girls." Zondra groused.
"Not a problem. Not a problem. Don't worry about it. We've got an hour to figure it out before she gets back." Carina said soothingly.
"How about we meet in the Main Quad?" Amy suggested. "It's about equidistant between Terman and Green Libraries."
"Good idea, Amy. That's one problem solved." Carina replied. "Now let's get texting the other girls. Start at the top of the list and trade off until we get a response from all of them. Say we'll meet them in the Main Quad at 8:00pm. That's far off enough for people to change plans in order to make the meeting. It also will be long enough for Zondra and me to get some actual work done at Green before we head into the stacks so we can lose Sarah and sneak off to get there ourselves."
"What do you want us to tell them the meeting is about?" Amy asked.
"Tell them we need to meet to figure out a plan to get the lowdown on Chuck Bartowski without Walker finding out about it." Zondra interjected.
Carina nodded. "Yup, that's about the size of it. Let's get typing."
Some girls were obviously away from their phones or otherwise occupied because it took the full hour and then some to hear back from everyone. The last girl responded just as they heard Sarah's key in the lock before she walked back into the room.
When the remaining players finished running their extra poles, Casey waved them off and pointed toward the locker room. The twelve players, including Chuck and Morgan did their cool-down routine and hit the showers, allowing the hot water to beat on their tired, achy muscles.
Changing back into their street clothes, the players split up to walk back to their various dorms. Chuck and Morgan walked back toward Roble Hall along with a couple of freshmen, David Bice and Rich (Rico) Linsalata, and two sophomores, Chris Ebersole and Mike Millard. As usual, Morgan had everyone laughing with one of his crazy stories.
"Grimes, I do not believe you ate that whole thing and survived." Chris Ebersole laughed.
"You can't believe he ate the whole thing?" Chuck chirped. "Well he ate it, 'Ralph.' The whole thing. Morgan is the king of the 'Mystery Crisper' challenge at the Burbank Buy More. It almost did him in, though. He was a strange shade of green for a couple of days. Even Alka Seltzer didn't help him." Chuck grinned, shaking his head.
"I sure hope they don't let you anywhere near the Chemistry Department here. You'd 'Mr. Hyde" yourself for sure." Rico Linsalata chuckled.
"Naw, I'm not into the whole chemistry mumbo-jumbo. I'm into the arts. I'm majoring in Film and Media Studies." Morgan replied.
"So, basically, you're going to watch movies for four years and hope they give you a degree for it?" David Bice asked.
"Well…" Morgan began.
"Yes." Chuck jumped in. Everyone laughed. Even Morgan.
"Whaddya want?" Morgan shrugged. "I'm from Burbank. It's only a short drive to Hollywood from there. It's a natural major for me."
"Morgan Grimes, the next great movie mogul." Mike Millard teased.
"No faith in the little bearded man." Chuck grinned.
"We'll see. We'll see." Millard replied. "He has to survive Stanford, first. And Coach Casey."
"Yeah. Coach Casey." Morgan swallowed and gave them a weak grin. The others all laughed. Eventually, Morgan joined them.
By this time, they'd reached their shared dorm. Still laughing, the group separated to return to their respective rooms. As they unlocked their door, Morgan turned to Chuck.
"Are you heading over to the dining hall now, bud?" he asked.
"No Morg. I promised Ellie I'd come by for dinner with her and Captain Awesome. I'm supposed to be there by 5:30, but it looks like I'm going to be late." Chuck replied. He changed into some clean clothes after putting on fresh deodorant and a bit of his cedarwood aftershave.
"I can't believe that she went behind my back as soon as she got to Stanford and threw me over some surfer dude." Morgan whined.
"Morgan, really? I hate to break it to you. Again. You two were never a couple. Were never going to be a couple." Chuck looked at his friend frankly. "You've chased her since you were six years old. And she's run away from you since you were six years old. That's not playing 'hard to get'. That's saying 'get away from me.'"
"That's cold, Chuck. That's cold."
"I'm sorry, buddy, but it's true. She's too old for you and doesn't like you. Never has." Chuck shook his head. "I'm going over there. Alone." Morgan closed his mouth without voicing the question he had intended.
"Say 'hi' for me and tell her I'll be waiting to catch her when Captain Awesome does something not awesome and breaks her heart."
"Sure, buddy. Sure." Chuck smirked and shook his head, again. "It's not going to be a late evening. I've still got to head over to Terman Library for some research tonight once I get back from dinner."
"Ok, no worries. I'll see you when you get back, whenever."
"Remember the rule, Morgan. No talking about me to anyone. Ok? I'll be the one to talk about me, when I decide to talk about me. Right?" Chuck fixed Morgan with a stern look.
"Right. Ok, Chuck. No problem. My lips are sealed." Morgan didn't like stern Chuck. He liked angry Chuck even less.
"Ok. That's what I want to hear. Be good until I get back." Chuck smiled at his friend.
"I will. See you later."
Chuck grabbed his car keys from his desk and headed out the door. On the way to his car he pulled out his phone and called Ellie. The call was answered on the first ring, just as he got to his car.
"Hey Ellie, it's me." Chuck said.
"Hi Chuck. Where have you been? Devon's here and dinner is almost ready." Ellie demanded.
"Yeah, practice ran a little late. Sorry about that." Chuck started his car.
"What happened?" His sister asked.
"Morgan being Morgan. We had to run extra poles." He said, pulling out onto Santa Teresa Drive.
"I might have known. How far out are you?"
"I'm in the car and just turning right on Campus Drive. I should be there between 5 and 10 minutes. Will dinner be ruined?"
"No, we'll survive. Remember to come in the Oak Creek Apartments main entrance opposite Stock Farm Road. I'm in the first building on the right. Park anyplace you can find a spot."
"You know I remember, El. Couldn't forget."
"Yeah, I know. See you in a bit." Ellie said. "Oh, you did shower after practice, right Chuck?"
"No Ellie, I didn't. I thought sweating and stinking all over your apartment would be a good thing." Chuck teased.
"Jerk." Ellie grumped.
"More like dumb question. Of course, I showered. Even put on clean clothes. All for you and Captain Awesome."
"Stop calling him that." She demanded.
Chuck smiled to himself. "I'll see you in a few and I'll do my best not to embarrass you. I know that you like Devon. Don't worry." He hung up without waiting for a response.
Sarah enjoyed her run. Even though Lake Lagunita had gone dry years ago, it was still a nice shaded run around its old shoreline. Having it right behind her dorm made running it a no brainer. The trail around the lake measured 0.9 miles, so she could run a lap around the lake, plus a little more, to equal a full mile.
Four years of running the same trail left her mind free to think, so she thought. Sarah thought about her mom. And Jack. And Molly. She thought about the Songbirds and what she had to whip them into shape to accomplish. She thought about what she had to do the rest of the year and what she had to do to get into PT school. And she thought about Chuck Bartowski. Mostly, she thought about Chuck Bartowski.
Sarah thought about every moment since Chuck ran into the practice room until he ran out again. How he looked. What he smelled like. What he said. What she said. How his hand felt when he had shaken hers. The electric tension she felt. They felt? And that jolt. Spark? Whatever? Sarah thought about Jill Roberts and Bill Krug, too. She turned it over and over in her mind, looking at it from every angle. Parsing every word.
Why had he stuttered and stammered? Why had his stuttering eased? And then, picked back up, again? Did he stutter all the time? Or only some of the time? Or only when she said or one of the girls said something to him? Or only when they said certain things to him? Or he to them? She thought about it all. Mental mom must not have been in good shape. She stayed silent while Sarah ran.
Sarah spent her time thinking and pondering; running until the alarm on her phone signaled that her hour was up. She walked a bit to cool down, taking sips from her water bottle to replenish the fluids she'd sweated off during her run. She hadn't come to any conclusions about Chuck Bartowski, yet, but she had some theories. She'd have to test those theories out over the coming days.
There was something tickling in the back of her mind, but she couldn't figure out what it was. She shook her head slightly. It would come to her when she stopped thinking about it, when she least expected it. Like it usually did in these situations.
Returning to her suite and her friends, Sarah grabbed a towel, cloth, and robe, along with her shower kit and headed down the hall to the ladies' bathroom and showers. Dinner and a trip to the library still lay ahead.
Chuck pulled into Ellie's apartment complex and found a spot near her building to park. Getting out, he locked his car and strolled along the walkway until he stood in front of her door. After checking himself over one last time, he knocked. The door swung open, almost immediately, to reveal Ellie's tight smile and Devon just over her shoulder.
"You made it. Finally!" Ellie exclaimed.
"Obviously. Hi Ellie. You going to let me in, now that I'm finally here?" Chuck teased.
"Oh. Right. Sorry. Please come in." Ellie stepped aside, allowing Chuck into her apartment.
"Chuckster! Awesome. Glad you could make it. How was practice?" Devon enthused, coming forward to shake Chuck's hand vigorously. The tall, blond-haired, blue-eyed man wore a huge, toothy smile.
"Hey, Devon. Glad to be here. Practice, this afternoon, was Ok. Today we ran stadium steps and poles. Not too bad. Mostly boring." Chuck smiled. Even though it was only his second time meeting Ellie's boyfriend, Chuck liked him. A little too much a frat boy jock for his liking, but he wasn't overbearing or arrogant about it. It was just his personality. Devon never just liked something, he loved it. Everything was 'awesome.' Underneath that exuberant exterior there was a sharp mind. There had to be, otherwise, he'd never have gotten into Stanford Medical or caught Ellie's eye. And he had caught Ellie's eye. Maybe more than her eye. It had only been little more than a month, but even Chuck could tell Ellie liked Devon Woodcomb. Liked him a lot.
"Ah, the dreaded stadium steps. I remember those gnarly bad boys from my UCLA football days. Gotta be fierce. Tackle them like you're going to climb Everest." Devon pointed at Chuck and made a fist. "Show them who's boss."
"Down boy." Ellie giggled.
"Thanks Devon. Baseball stadium steps aren't as bad as football stadium steps. Smaller stadium. Fewer steps." Chuck grinned. Captain Awesome was a bit much, but he didn't mean anything by it.
"I feel ya, bro," Devon looked thoughtful.
Changing the subject, Chuck asked, "What's for dinner, El? It smells wonderful in here." Chuck sniffed the air a few times for emphasis.
"I made mom's beef stew recipe. There's a loaf of French bread that I heated in the oven. We can put some slices on our plates and ladle the stew over it with some extra slices to sop up any extra gravy." Ellie said a bit proudly.
"Mmmm. That sounds wonderful. It'll be a nice change from eating in the dining hall." Chuck licked his lips in anticipation.
"Is the food in the dining hall not good?" Devon asked.
"Oh, no it's good. Great even. It's just that a home cooked meal will be a nice change of pace."
"Well, I didn't slave over a hot stove to make it. That credit goes to the wonder of the crock pot." Ellie shrugged.
"Ellie, I know you did all the work to prepare everything for the crock pot, even if it was cooking while you and Devon were busy with class. Thank you for going to all of that effort in spite of your busy schedule and thank you for inviting me. I understand busy."
Ellie was a bit surprised by Chuck's thoughtful appreciation. It was the nicest thing he had said to her in a long time. He hadn't been lying. He was trying to behave himself. Maybe this was a first step in the right direction for the two of them.
"You're welcome, Chuck. I'm glad to do it. It's the first time we've been away at school together. I thought having you over would remind us both of home a little bit."
"It does, El. It does." Chuck smiled.
"Ok, good. Then let's eat, babe. I'm starved." Devon rubbed his hands together enthusiastically.
"Come on into the kitchen. It's serve yourself. The bread's all cut and there's ice in the glasses. Tea or water to drink, your choice." Ellie directed. "Chuck, do you want tea or water?"
"Did you already make the tea, El? If so, yes, tea for me. Otherwise, water is fine."
"Tea's made so I'll pour you a glass and put it at your place at the table." Ellie said.
The kitchen was nicely appointed, but small and, thus, a tight fit for Devon and Chuck to maneuver around each other. They managed to each fix a plate without spilling or dropping anything. While Devon was fixing a plate for Ellie, Chuck carried his and Devon's plates out to the table, placing them where Ellie directed him. Devon came out of the kitchen with Ellie's plate which he sat at her place at the table before pulling out her chair and offering it to her. Taking her seat, Ellie gestured for the men to sit. After a short grace, they all dug into the wonderful looking meal.
After taking his first bite, Chuck moaned a little. "Ellie, you did it! It really does taste like moms. This is great."
"Chuckster's right, babe. This is really good. Especially after the long day we all had today."
Ellie beamed and blushed. "Thanks, you two. You sure know how to turn a girl's head. I'm glad you like it. Eat up. There's plenty. Even for big strapping boys like you." She teased.
The men looked at each other. "Awesome!" they said in unison. All three of them laughed.
After eating for a few minutes in silence, Ellie spoke up again. "Chuck, have you tried cooking anything since you've been up here?"
"No, El, I haven't. There hasn't really been much time and I haven't noticed any place for me to cook, outside getting a hotplate for my room. I don't think they really want us doing that, either."
"You could always use this place if you wanted to cook for yourself. Or if you have someone you want to cook for." Ellie was clearly fishing for information.
"I'll remember that. Thanks, Ellie. And, no, there is no one I would like to cook for at this point." Chuck replied. "Except for Morgan."
"Ok, no. That troll is not allowed in this apartment. No way."
"Don't worry, Ellie. I was just teasing. I won't bring him over here without your express approval." Chuck grinned as he spooned more stew into his mouth.
"Good. Good. He is just so relentless. Creeps me out." Ellie wiped her mouth on her napkin and shivered.
"Morgan is that friend of Chuck's with the beard, right? Short? Shorter than you?" Devon asked.
"Yes, that's him. He's been Chuck's friend since they were six and he's pestered me for that long, too. I never liked it. And it got old a long time ago."
"I've been working on him for a while now. Don't worry. School and baseball keep him pretty busy. I doubt he'll be coming over here to bother you. Hopefully, having co-ed dorms and having lots of other girls around campus and in the dining hall, Morgan will be able to meet someone who isn't repulsed by him." Chuck said, taking another bite and chewing, thoughtfully.
"Good luck with that, Chuck." Ellie warned.
"Don't worry, babe. I'll protect you from the dreaded Morgan." Devon grinned, patting her hand and winking at Chuck.
"See that you do." Ellie pouted.
The conversation moved on to more pleasant topics. After second helpings and ice cream with fresh berries for dessert, dinner was over. Chuck and Devon assisted Ellie in clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.
"You sure you don't want me to fix you a container of some of the leftover stew, Chuck?" Ellie asked.
"I'm sure, El. As much as I liked it and would love to take some with me, I have no place to store it. And no place to reheat it. Well, that's not true. I could use the microwave in the main lounge snack area, but I don't have any place to store it for sure." Chuck said. "Keep it here. I'm sure either you or Devon can use a hot snack at some point. Keep it and enjoy it. Thanks for the offer, though."
"Ok, Chuck, if you say so."
"I do. Say so, that is." Chuck stumbled. "And on that note, I've got to go. Sorry to eat and run, but I've got to get over to Terman Library and do some research for class before tomorrow."
"Chuck, really? So soon?"
"Yes, really so soon. I really, really need to go and do this."
"You really do work too hard. You need to slow down and relax once in a while." Ellie chuckled. Too many 'reallys' going around.
"I wouldn't say I work too hard. I do the work that is necessary."
"Chuck…"
"Ellie, I know. And I also know you're only doing what mom asked you to do. Maybe dad, too. I'm fine, I promise."
"Had any of those headaches since you've been up here?" Ellie gave Chuck a pointed look.
"Not really. Well, I almost had one today, but I was able to stop and calm down, so it never fully materialized. I'm fine."
"You need to slow down." Ellie said firmly.
"Ellie …," Devon began.
"Ellie, I'm fine. Promise. I'm going to do this. It's what I've been doing forever and I'll keep doing it until I get through school. Nothing and no one, headaches included, is going to stop me."
"Chuck …" Ellie began.
"Ellie, please. Don't. I had a really good time tonight with you and Devon. We're moving toward a good place, you and me. Don't spoil it. Please."
"Mom and Dad…"
"I know all about Mom and Dad. I'm over 18 now, almost 19. And I know the law, backwards and forwards. I'm independent. No one is going to push me around or control me again. Please don't stand in my way. I want you to be happy for me. Please." Chuck's tone had gone from commanding to pleading.
"I am happy for you, Chuck. We're all happy for you. Your goals are finally coming within reach. We're all just worried about you." Ellie gave Chuck a suddenly teary-eyed smile.
"None of this is going away, Ellie. It's what and who I am. I can sit and hide in a corner or I can go out and live my life. I've found a way to deal with it, so I can live my life. Please, allow me to live it as I choose to."
"Ok, Chuck. I'll support you, but I'll still worry about you. That's what big sisters do."
"I know big sis. I know." Chuck walked up and gave her a hug. "Now, I really do need to get out of here. Thanks, again, for dinner. Devon, it was nice to see you, again, too." Chuck reached out and shook Devon's hand.
"Same here, Chuck. Awesome night. See ya later, bro."
"Thanks, Elle. Truly," Chuck said as he walked out. Ellie closed the door behind him. Devon enveloped her in a hug.
"I'm worried about him, Devon. He's working way too hard. He may be smart, but he's only human. And most humans don't have to deal with what he does."
"I know, babe. All you can do is stand by him and help him the best way you can. He's a strong guy, physically and mentally. He has to be, otherwise he wouldn't be here doing what he's obviously doing."
"I hope you're right, Devon. I hope you're right."
Dinner proved to be uneventful. Sarah and her friends exited the serving line and scanned the room looking for a table with four available chairs. Well, her friends were scanning for chairs. Sarah, on the other hand, was scanning for Chuck. She would have denied it if asked, but it was obvious to her suitemates. Not finding him, she sighed and followed her friends to the table they spotted.
The friends spent their dinner time talking about the plans for the Songbirds and the next steps that were needed to work toward their team goals. They chatted about their classes and the work they had to accomplish that evening at the library. By unspoken agreement, they avoided talking about Chuck Bartowski. Well, not really unspoken agreement, more like a command after Carina tried to start a conversation.
"So, Sarah, about Chuckles …." Carina had begun.
"I don't want to talk about it." Sarah had interrupted. And so, they hadn't.
Carina and company weren't worried. They knew sooner or later Sarah would crack and they would discuss the whys and wherefores of tall, dark, and curly.
With dinner and the aborted conversations completed, the group went back to the suite to grab their stuff before heading off to the libraries. Amy to Terman and the others to Green.
"Catch you guys in a few." Amy waved, winking at Carina and Zondra when they saw Sarah wasn't looking.
Sarah turned to her friends. "How long were you guys planning on being at the library?"
Carina shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure. I guess it depends on how successful I am on getting those books I need and then how long it takes me to use them."
"Same goes for me. I'm guessing a couple of hours. Give or take." Zondra shrugged, too.
"Ok," Sarah acknowledged. "We can work and go back either together or separately, depending on how long each of us needs."
Arriving at Green Library and going through the security check, the girls found places to set up that weren't too far from each other. They unloaded their backpacks and set to work, each girl booting up their laptops.
Sarah still had some searching to do online to locate more information about psychological research involving Towers of Hanoi. Carina and Zondra already had leads on pertinent material, so they periodically disappeared into the stacks in search of the relevant books. They repeated the process over the course of the next hour or so.
Sarah was too involved with her own work to notice when they didn't return from their latest foray into the library's depths. When she looked up from her work, she noticed that they were gone, but their places at the tables were still strewn with work materials. Shrugging, she turned back to her work.
When Sarah was finished with her work, she still hadn't noticed whether or not her friends had come back to their tables and gone again or just not come back. Unusual, but not overly so. After looking around a few moments to see if she spotted her friends, she began to pack up to leave. Walking over to their spots, she scribbled quick notes to let them know she had gone back to the dorm.
Exiting the library, Sarah walked south across Meyer Green before heading toward Hellman Hall and the familiar walk back to the dorm along Santa Teresa Street. Taking the usual route allowed her to think about Chuck Bartowski some more.
She turned the day's events over in her mind again and again. There was something strange about him, but something alluring, too. She might be able to deny it to her friends, but she couldn't deny it to herself. She tried to think of a way to find out more about him, short of just asking him directly. Maybe she could get Zondra to use some of her computer skills to do a search online, a deeper search than just googling 'Charles Bartowski.' It wasn't much, but it was a place to start. And, she thought, a fairly innocuous one, too.
Just as Sarah entered her suite, she remembered. The thing that had been bothering her during her run, earlier. The thing she couldn't quite put her finger on before, finally came to the surface of her memory. When she had shaken hands with Chuck and introduced herself, he had said "Nice to need you, Sarah Walker." Need? Why had he said 'need'? Was that a Freudian slip? Unbidden, the image of the old Far Side cartoon of Freud in a woman's undergarment with the tagline 'Freud's First Slip', that she had tacked to her bulletin board back home, came into her mind and she laughed to the empty room. Hopefully, that wasn't Chuck's issue. But what was? Why the slip? Why all the other stuff? She would find out. After all, they … she had allowed him to stay. Resolved, she unpacked her stuff and got on with the rest of her evening.
Chuck was both happy and relieved as he drove his car back toward the dorm. Happy that he had a good time with Ellie and Devon. Even as inexperienced as he was, Chuck could tell that Ellie liked Devon and that he liked Ellie a lot. Devon was good for her, too. Helped to calm her down. The dinner had been nice, as well. Never one to turn down a good home-cooked meal, Chuck patted his stomach contentedly.
He was relieved that Ellie hadn't gotten more upset with him or pushed his perceived overwork issue. Chuck worried a bit that if she was upset now, what would she do if or when she found out the full extent of what he was doing? Heck, what would his mom do? Only he, his dad, the engineering dean, and the Stanford president knew the full scope of what he was attempting. Others knew parts of it, but only those four knew it all. And getting them on board hadn't been easy, either.
All he had to do was keep all of those people happy, get his work done, and play baseball. Chuck laughed to himself. Piece of cake. Just juggle all of those things. No problem. After all, he was a pretty good juggler, wasn't he?
By the time he'd gotten to thinking about juggling, Chuck had arrived back at the lot behind his dorm. Luckily there was a spot open, which he took, even though it wasn't quite as good a spot as the one he'd left behind in order to go over to Ellie's place. At least he wasn't forced to park farther away in some other lot all together. Thank heavens for small favors.
Chuck locked the car and made his way back to his room. Morgan wasn't there and hadn't left a note anywhere, so he stuffed the books and papers that he would need, along with his laptop, into his backpack. Re-locking the room, he headed off to Terman library and more research.
It wasn't until Chuck had finished his work in the library and started to make his way back to Roble Hall, that he allowed himself to think over his day. He thought over everything, but mostly, he thought about his time hanging out around those girls. What did they call themselves? He'd have to ask. Talking with that one girl. Sarah. Sarah Walker. God, she was so amazing. Beautiful. And those eyes. So blue. Shaking her hand. That spark? Jolt? Whatever? He really looked forward to talking to her more. If he could just get his act together and stop acting like some tongue-tied child.
Just as Chuck unlocked the door to his room, he remembered. He remembered what he had said to her when she introduced herself to him. "Nice to need you, Sarah Walker." Need? Oh, no! Talk about a Freudian slip. Why did he say that? How could he face them? Face her, again? Well, they must think he's a fool for all of his stuttering and stammering from today, so what did he have to lose at this point? They had allowed him to stay, after all. Resolved, he closed the door behind him.
A/N2 – The title of this chapter comes from the Electric Light Orchestra song, Confusion. The lyrics seemed to speak to what's going on in Sarah's and Chuck's minds.
A/N3 – Yes, 5 double poles and 10 poles are the same thing. Coaches will assign them using that language, so I repeated it here in this chapter. College baseball teams can carry lots of players. 35 is about average. In contrast, professional teams carry 25 players (not including the changes made for the special season going on as of this writing in 2020).
A/N4 – From the A/N last chapter, Roble Hall is co-ed by hall and each hall has both men's and women's bathrooms. Rooms have sinks, but not the rest. Maybe a small detail, but there it is.
A/N5 - Thanks once again to WillieGarvin for beta-ing for me. And thank you to everyone who's taken the time to offer a review and/or a PM. Heck, thank you for even reading my little ditty about Chuck and Sarah. Y'all are the best.
A/N6 – October 1 is over. Or is it? What happened at the meeting of the Songbirds without Sarah? What will happen when Chuck drops by the girls' practice? Stay tuned. Thanks for reading. Drop me a PM or review. Let me know what you think.